Wait… I’m a Druid in a Cultivation World?! - Chapter 10

Wang Shan? Bandit cultivators?
They’re back?

Qi Ping frowned at Old Man Zhou’s words.

This wasn’t the first time bandit cultivators had appeared.

Over the past few years, they’d been popping up intermittently, targeting loose cultivators specifically.

What was even stranger was that the Qingyuan Sect seemed to turn a blind eye—only occasionally stepping in when the bandits grew too bold.

This would’ve been unthinkable in the past!

A few years ago, under the Qingyuan Sect’s rule, the entire Qingtian Domain had flourished with agriculture, animal husbandry, and bustling trade.

As part of the Qingtian Domain, Greenrock County was known for its Little Black Bees, Golden-Feathered Chickens, and Spirit-Nurturing Fruits—hallmarks of the local industry.

The Qingyuan Sect, in turn, reaped massive profits from taxes on this thriving economy.

When Qi Ping first arrived in the cultivation world, he’d been stunned by the Qingtian Domain’s prosperity.

Industries thrived, public order was stable—it was nothing like the cutthroat cultivation realms described in novels!

Life for low-level cultivators wasn’t easy, but it was manageable. Beekeeping, fruit farming—people could live decently.

Old Man Zhou had spent most of his life this way, free from life-and-death struggles, living a contented life.

Unless, of course, disasters struck—plagues, beast tides—wiping out years of effort and leaving cultivators buried in debt. But such events were rare.

Overall, life was sustainable. A good harvest could even mean a small windfall.

But two or three years ago, everything began to change.

Bandit cultivators appeared.

They targeted the hard-earned wealth of loose cultivators, stripping them of everything—sometimes even their lives.

At first, people were worried but not panicked.

Everyone believed the Qingyuan Sect would hunt down the bandits and restore order.

No one thought the sect would allow such lawlessness in its own backyard.

And initially, the sect did act—increasing patrols, vowing to maintain peace.

People breathed a sigh of relief.

But that relief was short-lived.

Soon after, the Qingyuan Sect withdrew its patrols.

And for the past two or three years, they’d done nothing.

With no enforcement, the bandits grew bolder, striking at regular intervals.

Yet the taxes and rents paid to the Qingyuan Sect never decreased—in fact, they increased.

Resentment simmered, but there was little anyone could do.

No one knew why the sect had abandoned its duties. Internal strife? External pressure?

As bottom-tier loose cultivators, they had no way of knowing. They could only accept their fate.

When the Qingyuan Sect upheld order, loose cultivators prospered. Now that it didn’t, dissatisfaction festered—but no one dared speak up.

What could weak, scattered cultivators do?

Life had to go on.

And since only a small fraction of cultivators were targeted, people gradually adapted—just with more caution.

Small alliances began forming for mutual protection.

Like the Fushang Association, which Old Man Zhou had mentioned.

Qi Ping, Old Man Zhou, and Wang Shan were all members.

The Fushang Association was small—just over a dozen members—and had existed for decades.

It was a cooperative of nearby loose cultivators, banding together for support.

The name “Fushang” (福生) reflected their hopes—prosperity, thriving livestock, a life of blessings.

Most members were friendly and familiar, helping each other when needed.

Once, when Qi Ping’s Little Black Bees had swarmed away, it was the Fushang Association that helped him track them down.

Wang Shan, the steady middle-aged core member, was an expert at raising Golden-Feathered Chickens, managing dozens of them.

Qi Ping knew him as reliable, meticulous, and kind—the type who organized group efforts within the association.

“Don’t worry, Old Man Zhou. You know me—I won’t breathe a word to anyone else.”

Qi Ping patted his chest, reassuring the old man.

“Mm. You’ve always been careful. Normally, I wouldn’t fret. But with bandits everywhere now, extra caution is needed.”

“An old man like me, with maybe a decade left? Doesn’t matter. But you’re young, kid. Live well. Grow the apiary.”

His tone lightened slightly.

“Relax! You’ll have all the wine you want. Besides, I haven’t even found a wife yet,” Qi Ping grinned.

“Young people—always the same nonsense! Do what you want. I’m off to nap. Don’t bother me.”

Stretching, Old Man Zhou slumped back into his usual lazy demeanor.

With a leisurely wave, he ambled back to his courtyard.

Since Qi Ping had tamed the Burrowing Gold Marrow Bees, the hive disturbance was resolved.

The details were Qi Ping’s problem now—Old Man Zhou couldn’t be bothered.

And with the combat-capable Gold Marrow Bees, Qi Ping could handle himself.

If even they couldn’t protect him, an old man wouldn’t make a difference.

Besides, Qi Ping was thorough. No need to fuss.

Fussing wouldn’t help anyway.

Having reasoned this out, Old Man Zhou settled back into his carefree mindset.

Bandits? So be it. Life and death were fated. More years meant more enjoyment; fewer, no great loss.

After nibbling some fruit, he flopped onto his bamboo recliner.

Soon, soft snores rose.

Untroubled by the world!

Qi Ping shook his head, watching the old man’s retreating figure.

One moment, he’d been shocked speechless. The next, perfectly at ease.

To live with such detachment—not a bad way to go.

“But I’m not ready to coast yet!”

With his newly awakened Druid abilities and the Gold Marrow Bees, Qi Ping’s drive was stronger than ever.

“First, reassure the Little Black Bees—the Gold Marrow Bees are under control. Then refine their honey to boost my cultivation. Time to push forward!”